


there's an old voice in my head (that's holding me back)

by riverblujay



Series: Now Invalidated by Canon (ft. Sunken Ships) [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Major Spoilers, Season 11 episode 20, Season/Series 11, The Samulet - Freeform, featuring Not An Asshole! Dean, references to past suicidal thoughts - Freeform, s11e20 coda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 21:47:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6771499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverblujay/pseuds/riverblujay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They have a lot to talk about.</p><p>Title from Little Talks by Of Monsters and Men.</p><p>(In other words, the author doesn't have any friends in real life to talk to about the new episode, can't wait for next week, and also knows spn will probably not handle things in a way that soothes my bitter sam girl heart.)</p><p>EDIT: so very invalidated by canon but whatevs</p><p>Warning: MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD. Consider yourself warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	there's an old voice in my head (that's holding me back)

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said, MAJOR MAJOR spoilers. Please don't read if a) you haven't seen the episode or b) don't want to be spoiled.
> 
> Also (as you can see in the tags) there are some references to past suicidal thoughts/actions. Please do not read if this triggers you.

The drive back to the bunker was totally awkward. 

Dean was sort of ignoring Chuck in the backseat (and wasn’t that crazy, Chuck was fucking _god_ ) and was also keenly ignoring Sam. 

He sat there and wondered exactly when shit would go down. It wasn't a matter of if- it was never _if_ with Dean- and Sam knew that it would be explosive when it did.

He looked to the left again. Dean’s hands were clenched and pale on the steering wheel, his face angry and hard. He looked old, Sam realized. Then he realized something- his birthday was two days ago. _He_ was old too.

(Of course, technically he was probably the oldest human on Earth, if you counted his time in hell- then he would be over 5,000 years old. Out of the periphery, he saw the ghost of Nick. He subtly pressed his right hand into his left, and Nick disappeared. Sam stopped thinking about it.)

The rest of the drive passed in the same way. Dean tensely gripping the wheel, Chuck awkwardly sitting in the backseat but at the same time giving off an aura of power that only God could give, and he himself dreading the discussion to come.

They arrived at the bunker a few hours later. Dean did his whole ‘I'm-going-to-angrily-ignore-everything-until-I’ve-at-least-had-one-full-glass-of-whiskey’ thing as they took their stuff out of the trunk and went into the bunker.

“Nice place,” Chuck casually told them as they went inside. “Totally love the ambiance.”

Dean looked like he was about to snap at the prophet-who’s-apparently-god, then thought better of it. Sam responded instead. “Uh… Thanks?”

Dean dropped the bags and stalked into the kitchen, most likely to get the whiskey. He was pleasantly surprised to see Dean come out and say, “I’m putting on a pot of coffee. Sam?”

“Yeah, I’ll have some,” he replied. Sam turned to face Chuck. “Do… do you want a cup?”

“Sure.”

“Ok then,” Dean muttered to himself, then walked back into the kitchen. 

He looked back at Chuck again. “We should probably follow him.”

“Right. Of course.”

They walked through the library. Sam’s walk was a little hesitant, while Chuck’s seemed to be- it wasn't hesitant, but maybe… timid? Though why God himself would be timid escaped him.

When they arrived, Dean was leaning against the counter opposite the coffee maker, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. He was subtly taking deep breaths. Probably trying to compose himself at least a little. 

They all stared into space, Chuck seated at the table while Sam took a spot on the wall near Dean. 

When the coffee had finished brewing, his brother got up and poured three mugs. Him and Dean grabbed the coffee and took seats at the other end of the table from where Chuck was sitting.

“So…” Dean started. “Were you god the whole time?”

“I wanted a front row seat.” Then he turned towards Sam. “I can’t believe you broke the world again, Sam. I-"

“Woah woah woah, hold on just a second.” Dean was getting angry, and continued, “It's not his fucking fault.”

Sam looked down. “Dean, it’s ok, really,” he said quietly. Dean gave him an incredulous look. “It _is_ my fault.”

“No, Sam.” Dean was focusing all his attention on him now. “It’s _not_ ok. _I_ was the one that chose to take the fucking murder mark and trust Crowley. You were just trying to do what you thought was right.”

“That’s the problem. The world would've gone on with demon Dean in it,” Chuck interjected.

“No.” Sam thought Dean was probably going to get smited at this rate. “I was wrong, Sam. You apologized for not looking for me when I was in Purgatory, but I was the one that went back on what we had agreed- to not try to save each other. And then I went back on what I said again when I told you to let me go while I was a demon.”

Sam just stared in awe. This wasn’t Dean. There's no way this could be Dean. But… if Dean was possessed he wouldn't have been able to get into the bunker- there were Devil’s traps everywhere. And they strengthened the angel warding after Lucifer had possessed Cas.

Chuck started talking again. “Regardless of whether or not it’s Sam's fault, the point still stands. Amara is walking the earth. And she wants to destroy _everything_.”

Sam spoke up. “What about Cas?”

God sighed. “I’ve resurrected Castiel more times than I can count. We need Lucifer.”

“What?”

“Dean,” Chuck was speaking like he was explaining things to a small child. “We _need_ Lucifer. He’s the only archangel left, unless Gabriel has somehow managed to hide his presence from me, which I kind of doubt. I know you have strong feelings for him-" 

“I don't like Cas that way.”

Chuck just stared at Dean, like he didn’t believe him, then went on with what he was saying. “Anyways, I’ll be in touch.”

Chuck vanished, flying off to wherever.

Dean stared at the spot where Chuck had sat. 

He stared at Dean, who was nursing his empty cup of coffee. Dean stood. “Don’t move. We… We still have a lot to talk about.

He went to refill his cup. This time, when his brother sat down, he sat opposite Sam- Dean obviously wanted to have this talk face-to-face.

“So.” He started to say. “I- did you mean what you said, Dean? About everything? Because- no offense- but that was kind of out of character for you.”

“Sammy, I-"

“Because,” Sam interrupted. “I can deal with you not forgiving. I can deal with it. I expect it. But I can't deal with you pretending we’re on even ground, like everything’s forgotten, just in time for you to pull everything out from under me like you do every single time.”

Dean looked startled. “I’ve never done that, Sammy.”

Sam stared down again, his hands clasping the mug with coffee growing cold. “Yes you have, Dean,” he said softly. “Remember the trials? When I said I didn’t know where to start, you didn’t even hesitate to bring up shit you said was in the past. The demon blood, Ruby, being soulless, not looking for you- I still blame myself for everything,” He choked a little, “but I can’t think you don’t, unless it’s true. I can’t pretend, Dean. Not then, not now.”

Dean looked like he was about to throw up. “Sam, I- It- I’m not a good person, Sammy. No,” Dean could see him ready to interrupt. “Hear me out.”

Dean breathed in deeply, then sighed. 

“You're right- about all of that. And those were shitty things to do. And it was especially shitty to throw away the amulet.” Here he gave a pointed look at Sam. 

Sam guessed he was expected to answer.

“I couldn't leave it.”

“And you had it the whole time?”

“It’s…” Sam trailed off, struggling to find the right words. “A reminder,” he finished.

“Of what?”

“Everything, I guess,” Sam shrugged in tandem with his words. “I thought things would never get better between us. And then I was soulless, and I was shocked he hadn't thrown it away.” If Dean was surprised to hear him refer to his soulless self as if he was a different person, his face didn't show it, so Sam continued. 

“And I… I don't know, it sounds stupid, but it was sort of like you were still here, when you were in Purgatory. Stone number one, I guess.” Sam smiled dryly. “Certainly kept me from going completely off the deep end.”

“Completely? What the fuck does that mean, Sam?” Dean sounded like he was trying his hardest to keep from exploding. 

“What do you think, Dean?” His voice was starting to sound more angry, so he took a deep breath. “I had spent the last few months rebuilding my reality on you being real,” and here Dean sucked in a sharp breath, “Of course I wasn’t going to be ok.”

“But Cas-”

“All Cas did was take away the hallucinations,” he said firmly.

“So what, you went psycho?”

“Do you really want to know, Dean? Do you?”

“Sam,” his voice was pained. “Tell me.”

Sam took another deep breath.

“I drove until I couldn't. I was planning on driving until I drove off a bridge, but then I hit Riot. I tried it once, at Mystery Spot,” Dean’s face grew even more horrified, “It was probably around the fiftieth day, maybe. But Gabriel killed you right as I was falling.”

Dean looked speechless. Sam kept going- now that he had started, he couldn't stop. 

“Anyways, I _am_ sorry I didn't look for you, or find Kevin, but honestly I was barely in good enough of a mental state to look out for myself, much less keep hunting.”

“Sam. Sammy, look at me.”

He turned back to Dean.

“Sam, I- I'm sorry. I was awful. I- I never even asked, did I? Just assumed and never listened.”

“Dean…” Sam’s voice cracked a little. “You shouldn’t blame yourself like tha-”

“Like you do? Sam,” Dean was sounding desperate, now. “All this time, I’ve been selfish. I was the one that could never- can’t- let you go.”

Sam pulled out the amulet again. In Chuck’s absence, it had stopped glowing. It dangled as he held it from the cord. He stared at it for what felt like a long time. Dean stared with him. 

He pulled it back into his hand, then extended his hand towards Dean. 

“You should keep it,” Dean told him. “I think you deserve it more than I do.” Even as Sam threw a bitchface his way, his brother remained unconvinced. “No, trust me. It looks better on you. What with your princessy long hair,” Dean’s tone playful and jesting, now.

“Shut up,” said Sam, but he still smiled at his brother. Dean smiled back at him.

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Sam slipped the cord over his neck again as he rose to get another cup of coffee, his first long gone and his mug empty.

**Author's Note:**

> I was originally going to try to write this in Dean's pov, but then I noped so hard. Also, Chuck is super hard to write. (God is bi and has a blog about cute cats. God bless us all.) 
> 
> If Dean seems a little out of character to you, it's because I wanted him to be. Deanis harder for me, because he's been a pretty big jerk to Sam over the past three seasons ish. The show seems to be giving him a redemption arc- close enough, anyways- and I simply expanded on it and incorperated in things where I wanted Dean to realize what he did in that circumstance was wrong.
> 
> Also, I personally believe Sam WAS in hell for over 5,000 years. In the show, (I'm pretty sure it was 6x14, but don't quote me on that) Sam said that while he was only unconscious for 2-3 minutes, it felt like it was a week. The fandom always takes Dean's conversion rate for hell at face value. Why not Sam's?
> 
> (Also idk, but if we were diving into hell metapysics, I don't know. It just makes more sense to me that if Sam was in a lower circle/part of hell than Dean, the ratio of earth time/hell time would be that much greater.)


End file.
